


just the right amount (sugar swap shop)

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: Daddy Kink, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, Sugar Daddy, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: "I'm making a lot of assumptions right now," Kibum's eyes trail down Jinki's face, to where he knows his apple is jutting out. "I'm assuming that you find me attractive. I'm assuming that you're struggling to control yourself right now. And I'm assuming no one's ever treated you like this before."(jinki fails at being a sugar daddy. luckily kibum knows a sugar baby when he sees one.)





	just the right amount (sugar swap shop)

_Start small_ , they say.

Small, as in gestures? Small, as in words? Small, as in emotionally negligible?

Whatever they meant, Jinki is failing miserably at it.

A small start is not trying to buy a fridge for a stranger, or tripping over his own tongue trying to explain himself to the cashier. A small start is not desperately avoiding looking at the person he's buying it for, because then he'll see the look on Jinki's face and deem him a creep with a high credit limit.

" - I mean, it's not a problem really, it's my pleasure. Not that I'm taking _pleasure_ in it I just wanted to help someone in need. Um, not that he's - poor or - this is charity - it's, um - kindness?"

"How about I just run your card, sir?" the cashier does him a courtesy in interrupting. Jinki gratefully nods and slides it through. The man - boy - god, he looks like he's in his late twenties, just a little younger than Jinki, but Jinki sucks at guessing ages, and if he's a boy he better pay attention to the return policy, is gaping at him with some kind of expression. Jinki's pink and panicking at figuring out the nature of it. 

The cashier hands the receipt to him and, to his relief, he must have rambled himself into a generous warranty as well. 

"If you'd like to pull your car around to the side, we'll load it for you," the cashier - the nametag cheerfully declaring " _Minho! is here to help you_ " - offers in the silence.

"Thanks," the other man says. When he turns to exit, Jinki blinks after him. It would be presumptuous to follow him, right? Like he had an obligation to speak to him? Weird, at the very least?

"Have a nice day, sir," MInho politely dismisses him, so Jinki really has no choice but to exit with his single, intended item - a pack of triple-AAA batteries.

Go in planning for $10, end up spending $800. Lee Jinki is not that person.

But coming up to the check-out and seeing someone shaking in embarrassment at their card being declined, and the half-holes in their jacket, and he was angry, and passionate, and really, just incandescently beautiful on top of that, and Jinki found himself blurting out, "I'll pay for it."

Cardboard from his purchase softening between sweaty fingers, Jinki finally steps outside. The other man is gone from sight, but as he steps towards the lot a small, serviceable truck pulls up beside him. His donatee is looking at him critically for a long moment, before jerking his head in a clear invitation to hop in.

Was it clear? If it were any other situation, Jinki would definitely consider that tilted up jerk of the head a silent beckoning, but he can't imagine being in this man's position and inviting a stranger into his truck.

Granted, 1 hour ago he couldn't have imagined shelling out $800 for a stranger in the same check-out line. He scrambles around the back of the truck and pulls the door open before he can lose his nerve.

Lee Jinki, CPA, doesn't pay for strangers' things and also doesn't get into strangers' cars, but he's contradicting himself so much today he doesn't feel much like Lee Jinki, CPA. Maybe today he's just Jinki, a reckless and lonely spender at home improvement stores.

He settles into the passenger's seat, nerves making his fingers fumble at the belt. It's apparently taking too long, because suddenly longer, slimmer fingers are reaching over to guide the buckle in. 

"Kibum," the other man says, apropos of nothing. His voice sends an untimely thrill of excitement right to Jinki's groin - his hands are _right there_ and need to be moved away _right now_. "This isn't my truck."

"Oh?" he says. He's holding his body too tensely, but Kibum has leaned back and is driving them over to the side of the store and apparently pays no attention. When he pulls the truck into the loading area and puts it into park, it's only then he looks back at Jinki. 

"No. It's a friend's."

The ensuing silence is so broad that Jinki, fluent in awkwardness, struggles to grapple with it. 

"You didn't have to buy it for me," Kibum says suddenly. He's pulled his phone out, fingers tapping at the screen with clear intent. 

"No, it's fine, really, I don't - " Jinki responds. It's a seamless transition back into the gabbing mess he was at the cashier's. Kibum doesn't turn his head, but he looks at him sideways, and Jinki loses the tenuous grip he's been maintaining on his batteries. 

"You don't understand," and he holds up his phone, and some banking application, and a 6-digit number is staring right back at Jinki's uncomprehending face. "That machine was fucked up. I have the money."

"Oh."

Kibum's face cracks into laughter, sharp and loud, and Jinki wants nothing more to slump, retreat into the seat gap until it consumes him whole. 

"Your clothes?" he manages to say. His hand twitches as though he wants to gesture at the holes in his jeans but can't quite summon up the willpower. 

"Yah, you don't know anything about fashion either?" Kibum giggles into his palm. "This is Decarnin, old man. It's meant to have holes in it."

He's dead. He's gone and dead and all that will be left of him is a small puddle of sweat. It'll probably stain. 

It's at this time that the attendant at the loading zone knocks on the driver's side window and asks Kibum for his receipt. He hands it over and unbuckles his seat belt, then, after a moment of reviewing Jinki's person, reaches over and undoes his as well. 

Silently, Jinki opens the door and slides out, following in their wake like an abashed inflatable tube. He's certain that he could flee the scene if he really wanted to, but Kibum keeps looking at him, merriment still high in his eyes, and something just doesn't feel right about leaving without closing out their conversation, as painful as it's been to Jinki's ego.

Once they do have the fridge loaded, the straps of it looped into the wheel well, Kibum thanks the attendant politely and turns back to face - and likely devastate further - Jinki. 

"Let's get lunch."

* * *

Lunch apparently means the kind of place Jinki sees cited as business expenses by businessmen who use the other accountants at his firm like alibis. The cheapest thing on the menu is an artisan glass of tea. When he orders it, he thinks the cup it's served in has gold flakes. 

"You can relax," Kibum says. "Obviously I'm paying."

It does the exact opposite of relaxing him, serving to remind him of the escapade that brought him together. Worst of all, the clear, vaguely condescending amusement in his face, his voice, is unfairly exciting. Jinki was unaware he was that type of person, but the more Kibum looks at him, the more his lips play at a smile that says, "You're dumb, but it amuses me," the more certain Jinki is aware that, yes, he is that type of person.

"I still don't know your name, you know," Kibum says. 

"Ah - Jinki. Lee Jinki," he manages to respond. Kibum keeps looking at him, and he wonders if he somehow fucked that up as well. "I'm an accountant."

For some reason, this cracks a sharp-edged smile to Kibum's face, and he leans back, taking a languid sip of his own drink. 

"For someone who works with money, you're very nervous to use it."

He hasn't had to fight down an untimely boner in years, but, there it is. He flexes his thigh muscles in an old trick and clenches his jaw in concentration. 

"You can have it back, you know. The money. I don't need it."

"Oh, um, if you don't - thank you."

Kibum tilts his head at him. He's supposed to hold the flex for 30 seconds, but his legs are starting to tremble and he's lost track of the time, as soon as Kibum leveled his dark eyes at him with the offer.

"I'm making you uncomfortable."

"No!" Jinki almost shouts. He winces, his thighs relaxing as he slumps back down. He takes a quick sip of his tea, and wonders how much money just went down his throat. He clears his throat and tries again.

"A little," he admits. "But that's my fault, not yours. I shouldn't have assumed anything when we were in line. And it was stupid, I don't even know you."

Kibum nods, and with a thoughtful look on his face, asks, "Am I stupid too, Jinki?"

His fingers play at the stem of the glass, smoothly tapping at it. He still has holes in his shirt, still looks the same as the young man at the store, but there's a heaviness to him now, a cultured level of intent, that makes him seem like a darkened mirror's reflection of earlier.

"I ask, because you're at a very nice meal you're not paying for. I didn't know your name when we sat down. And I'm making a lot of assumptions right now," his eyes trail down Jinki's face, to where he knows his apple is jutting out. He fights the urge to slide his thumb against it, a nervous tic that he's sure would get commented on. "I'm _assuming_ that you found me attractive, then, and you still do now. And I'm _assuming_ that, now that you're here with me, in this place, you're struggling to control yourself. And I'm _assuming_ no one's ever treated you like this before."

If there is a good response, Jinki doesn't know of it. He wouldn't be able to get it out, with how dry his throat is. Kibum's eyes, suddenly and impenetrably shuttered, search his face.

"Tell me I'm stupid," he says, sotto voice. Jinki jerks his head back and forth. Kibum moves his hand down from his face and lays it on the table. He turns his fingers up and curls them in. They're beautifully cared for, as far as Jinki can tell these things. 

"Then you're not stupid either," Kibum concludes. He sounds gentle, and slightly chiding now, and Jinki can't help but look at him. There's a small smile, so different from the outright laughter and sharp amusement from earlier, and it's not right, how so many different emotions all look so good on one person. 

"You tried to do something kind for a hot stranger," Kibum says. "It happens to all of us. You're just not suited to be a sugar daddy."

"A - what?" Jinki thought they were getting somewhere a slightly little less hazardous to his health, but Kibum forms the words so naturally and guilelessly, that Jinki feels like he's the one in the wrong, for looking around at others who may have overheard. Sugar daddies are just - jokes, in his experience. A wish by college students facing inordinate loans, or a mean, baseless comment. He didn't think that was something that even happened, much less in his immediate vicinity. 

As to Kibum's _assumptions_ , he doesn't think Kibum needs him to respond to know they're true.

"Sugar daddy," Kibum repeats. "You tried it out, but you were just so nervous. Really, even if you had the money for it, you'd find yourself getting taken advantage of by some unscrupulous baby who knows a fake when he sees one."

"A baby?" Jinki knows he's out of his depth, and must sound it, but Kibum doesn't look put-out at all. Instead, he looks at him quite softly. His ring clicks against the table as he stretches his fingers out, the tips of them grazing against Jinki's cup. 

"If there's a daddy, there's a baby," Kibum explains. "You may have some spendable money, and you're handsome enough. I wouldn't be surprised if someone's had to stop themselves from calling you daddy before. But you seem like you would enjoy the other role more."

Jinki flushes, thinking over his past few experiences. He's always tried to pay attention to his partners in bed, and to see them biting their lip - now, with Kibum's low suggestiveness, he wonders if he's right, and how he would have reacted. He knows how he's reacting now, to how Kibum is implicitly taking him by the hand, and guiding him to an admission. 

"But wouldn't that be - unethical," he says, uncertain of what he's really asking for. "To have money but get someone else to spend theirs on you?"

"Not if they want to. Maybe your daddy would just like spending on you, like seeing the pinkness in your face when you get taken somewhere nice. Maybe they get some happiness out of showering you with decadence and watching you squirm with embarrassment and delight."

"I'm," Jinki starts to say. He doesn't finish it.

Kibum leans forward, his hands closed together as in prayer. 

"You're what, baby?"

His cock jumps to attention.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

* * *

Even the toilet is absurd in its wealth, but Jinki barely processes it. He instead is bracing himself at the sink, his chest heaving out and in with panic. This can't really be happening to him. Nothing like this happens in real life, certainly not to people like him. 

The water is cold as he splashes it over his face, ignoring how droplets of it land on his collar and leave damp streaks in his hair. It has to make him look a wreck, but he doesn't care about that, does he? He tries to look neat and trim for his customers, but in his daily life he's plainer than anything else, choosing comfort above style. He didn't leave his apartment this morning looking to snag a - _daddy_. 

He runs a thumb across his eyebrow, smoothing out the errant hairs there. 

Pacing back and forth, as he runs over everything. Does he even know Kibum? He knows he gets him hard, but that's not the basis for a relationship. 

Would it even _be_ a relationship? Would he be sleeping with Kibum? Would that make him a prostitute?

The series of thoughts is difficult to organize, because he's still suffering, aroused, his cock pressing against the front of his pants. He shuffles into a stall, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for support. 

"kibum rich" he types into his phone, and grimaces in frustration when it returns 200,000 results. He presses the images tab and finds what he's looking for within the first couple rows.

Kibum, the photo showing him smiling in a fine suit, seated on a couch. It's a publicity photo - attached to an article about how Kim Kibum, age 29, is the sole heir to a family fortune built on fashion merchandising and production materials. It's a long article, full of thoughtful answers given by Kibum to questions about the nature of wealth, relationships, family, and his plans for the future.

_Money is meant to be used, isn't it?_

_I don't mean to hoard it like some others, and keep it locked up._

_I_ _enjoy spending time with the people closest to me, and showing them how much I care._

The end of the article lists the generous donations he personally has made, and the non-profits his family has administered over the years. He flips through a few more articles, and sees they're much along the same lines. 

Jinki takes a deep breath, and he isn't sure if it's relief or disappointment. 

* * *

"Welcome back," Kibum says, apparently unbothered. There's two plates of food sitting at their table, the one meant for Jinki quite untouched while Kibum's is halfway empty. He nods jerkily and pulls the chair out to sit down.

"I hope you like what I chose for you."

Jinki takes an experimental bite and nearly moans at the flavor of it, the tender warmth of it in his mouth and how it melts. 

"I'll take that as a yes."

He nods, quickly swallowing.

"Yes, it's delicious. Thank you, d- thank you," he trips over himself, before saying something he doesn't quite mean.

He told himself when he left the bathroom that knowing Kibum is probably a good person isn't reaching a decision of how to move forward. Even if he's handsome - even if he makes Jinki spark with heat - even if what he's offering is the best possible version of it - even all those things he can't just jump into something without caution. 

The look on his face just _reminds_ Jinki of what they were talking about before, and the word almost slipped out before he could stop it.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative silence. Kibum finishes before him, but he's apparently content to look around the restaurant at the other guests, thankfully letting Jinki avoid his gaze in peace. He wants to linger over every bite, knowing how opulently expensive it must be, and how ending his meal will open up the conversation where it left off. He pokes the last of it around his plate like a reluctant child before bringing it up to his lips and swallowing. 

He dabs at his mouth with a bone-white napkin and tries to steel himself. 

"That was really good."

"I'm glad you think so. We can come back, if you'd like, next time," Kibum says, his eyes carefully holding on Jinki's face. "You can enjoy it much better when you're not distracted."

"It's hard not to be distracted around you," Jinki blurts out. Kibum looks surprised, then delighted. He continues on, a little more self-effacing. "I don't know if it would get any better."

"If you don't like it, then you could ask it to stop."

Jinki nods, biting his lip. 

"Wouldn't that be - disappointing? To stop?"

Kibum dips his head in acknowledgement. 

"It certainly would, but I'd stop, and I wouldn't ask for anything back. It would have been freely given."

"What about - would you want to - sex?" 

His laugh - Kibum's laugh - is impertinently loud, but Jinki is finding it intoxicating, how little he cares about whatever looks that may give him. None of it matters to him. He holds his hands against his mouth as his shoulders continue to shake. 

"What about it, Jinki?" he finally asks, his voice still skipping with amusement. He clears his throat and his voice takes a darker tone. "You've been wanting me to fuck you since we met."

* * *

He still doesn't know how expensive the bathroom is, but the marble of the counter feels cold against the palms of his hands. When Kibum presses him up against it, when his hands dig under his thighs and lift him so that he's sitting on it instead, the rim of the sink's ceramic digs into his cheeks. He fumbles in where to put his own hands, eventually settling them against Kibum's hips. 

Kibum's hands are warm, his fingers long, in how they hold onto Jinki. His shirt is pushed up with little resistance, but Jinki can't help but squirm when Kibum takes a step back and draws his eyes like knives against his bared skin. It feels like goosepimples are popping out across every inch that gets his gaze, and he wants to fold into himself, but Kibum reaches out and grips onto his shoulder. It's tight, almost painful, as he pushes the ball of it back so Jinki can't slump over.

"Am I still making you uncomfortable?" he asks. Kibum's voice, low and erotic, pushes into Jinki's chest like a brand; Kibum presses his lips right into the same spot, as if he could see where his voice had scorched him and is using his kisses as a balm. Jinki shivers as his tongue slips out, licking idle patterns. 

"A little," he says, the words swallowed by a gasp as Kibum finds his nipple and sucks it into his mouth. His hand moves down from his shoulder, finding his arm, bent out, and then his side. It presses against his back to bring him closer, to let him nip and suckle in sharp, decisive motions. "But don't stop, please."

Kibum makes a pleased noise against his skin and his hands move down to find Jinki's belt, looped tightly and neatly around his waist. It takes little time for him to find the buckle, to undo the prong until the leather is pulled out of the frame. Jinki finds it himself, finds the end of it and tugs at it repeatedly until it comes free. Even as it leaves his hands and clatters to the floor, Kibum is working at his button, pressed tight against the distended materials of his pants around his erection, and his stomach, but his fingers find it and undo it. The zipper comes next, and when Kibum's hand finally lands on the plain, serviceable material of his underwear, wettened by his excited cock, Jinki jumps in alarm.

"Shhh," Kibum says. His breath is slightly unsteady, his lips swollen at the ministrations he's been giving to Jinki's nipples. He reaches his free hand up to stroke at Jinki's hair, and Jinki preens beneath his touch. "It's OK, baby. It's just us."

"The door," Jinki manages to say. When Kibum had escorted them into the bathroom together, it had been empty, and then Kibum's hands were on his body, his mouth wet with wine and perfect, and Jinki couldn't think any further beyond - _daddy_ \- but now - 

"Just us," Kibum promises. His hand is pulling at the elastic of Jinki's waistband. "I have it under control."

Swallowing his fear, and losing himself in another haze of excitement, he nods and lets Kibum pull his underwear down. Jinki pushes himself up off the counter as best he can, letting it and his pants be pulled down until they pool around his ankles. The counter digs into his bared ass as Kibum presses against him, as he grazes his lips against his cheekbones, his lips, his eyelashes.

"Turn around for me," he whispers into his ear. 

When he pulls back, Jinki stutters, "I'm not - "

"Baby," Kibum says calmly. "I'll fuck you another time. Right now I want you to just know what it'll look like."

Jinki's not sure of what that even means, but he turns around anyway. The backs of his hands are white; the lines of his veins, blue. When Kibum unexpectedly reaches around to grasp at his cock, he jumps in surprise, and then trying not to move as the other man carefully moves it so it's resting on top of the counter. 

There's the quiet rustling of Kibum removing his own clothes, and then the warm heat of his cock pressing its hard length under the curve of his ass. 

"Look up," he orders Jinki. 

The mirror is wide, and tall, and expensive-looking. It doesn't have any water spots, or cracks, or graffiti. It shows in perfect clarity the heady, dominant desire on Kibum's face, the fat weight of Jinki's cock on the marbletop, his hair tousled from Kibum running his hands through it. Jinki sees a baby, bent over and pliant and waiting for his daddy to fuck him. There's sweat slick at the points of his cheekbones, and darkening his hairline. His mouth is open and wet and begging to be filled. 

He sees, clearly enough, that Kibum is rubbing something across his fingers, but instead of running it across his rim, Kibum reaches lower. The lower curve of his ass, where it meets his thighs, it gets the lube instead. It's cold but Kibum's touch is warm and quick and thorough. He wants to buck forward, but instead he looks up and finds Kibum looking at him already, gaze heavy with intent. 

When Kibum's cock slides into the space between his thighs, he chokes.

But Kibum told him to look up, so that's what he does. He sees the concentration of Kibum's face, the tightened coil of his frame as his hips move back and forth. His hands finds Jinki's sides, find the shore-stone softness of his ribcage and hold him up in case he trembles, too overcome to keep himself up.

He can barely recognize his own face, glassy-eyed and overworked. His lips look bitten, explored and exploited. He has marks on his hands from where they've been squeezed between his body and the sink, tight red lines. His cock is purpled and leaking, leaving off-white slick against the black marble. Kibum's hips jolt against him. He hears himself start to moan, whining in need.

"Please fuck me," it comes out of him, a string of half-words he's sure Kibum can't hear. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

Kibum's cock is a heavy length, smoothly sliding in and out. He flexes his thighs, tightening around him, and Kibum sighs in approval. His fingers find Jinki's hair, find the soft base of his skull and firmly, encouragingly, strokes. 

"Baby," he says, gasping. "I'm close."

30 seconds, Jinki thinks. His thighs are going to quake and throb, but he wants to, viscerally, desperately, to hold this together for Kibum. Biting his lips once more, he bends his back so to push his ass out more, to give Kibum more of him to use, and flattens his body against the counter. His chest, still bare, his nipples are scratched against the marble, sure to redden and raw with every jerk of Kibum's hips against him, but - 

10 seconds, and Kibum's hands are back to his shoulders, pulling him backwards, so Jinki is arching and it should be painful but he can feel his own cock respond to the treatment, to being guided and praised and watched and he pushes himself to meet what's desired of him.

5 seconds, and his hips are stuttering sharp and urgent against Jinki, his cock rubbing frantically between his thighs.

When Jinki chokes out, "Daddy, please," Kibum comes, the release of it wetly covering Jinki's thighs. Panting, a moment later, his cock still sliding against his skin, Kibum pulls Jinki up and grabs him. His hand is still slick with the lube, and when it runs over Jinki's cock, exploring, he can't hold it back any longer.

After he comes, Kibum cradles him in his arms and tells him, _baby, you were so, so good for me_. 

* * *

"Is that your new boyfriend, Lee?" 

Jinki looks over at his desk, to where Kibum is nodding and talking to his boss, who's clearly sensed money in the air. 

"No," he says, shortly in response. He puts his head down and continues to work on his files for the week. His co-worker, scoffing, moves away and Jinki wriggles at the lie. He's gotten better at it, a necessity now, but it still leaves him feeling unsettled, and in needing of soothing.

His phone buzzes. Glancing at the caller ID, he flushes and gets up, moving towards the hallway and an open closet, half-filled with housekeeping supplies.

"Hello, this is Lee Jinki," he says, hurrying in his steps.

"Hi," Kibum's voice, curling and amused. "Care to join me for lunch?"

"I'm working," he swallows back his response. When he reaches the closet door, he glances around before letting himself in. "I can't right now."

"Of course not," Kibum responds smoothly. "But it's a working lunch, for your newest client."

When Jinki doesn't respond, he continues, "I find myself in need of an in-house accountant, you see. And I've had my eye on someone for a while now, someone who's really ready to give me their all. Who I can really - strip everything down for. Lots of late nights, of course, I have quite a robust set of finances, but I think he can handle it."

"Oh," he finally says.

Kibum laughs at him, and Jinki instinctively palms at his crotch, to keep himself under control.

"Oh," Kibum repeats back. "Join me outside, baby. We have some work to do."

"Yes, of course."

"Of course, what?"

Jinki shivers.

"Of course, daddy."

**Author's Note:**

> follow-up can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428731)


End file.
